


I Have an Onion

by liairene



Series: A Visitor's Guide to Highbury [12]
Category: Emma - Jane Austen, Persuasion - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bickering, Birthday, Brunch, F/M, Gen, Modern Era, birthday brunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23511679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liairene/pseuds/liairene
Summary: Ed Ferrars's birthday brunch would probably be more peaceful if his friends didn't insist on arguing over which kind of onion is best suited to a quiche.And Emma Woodhouse might want to learn to cook?
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy (background), George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse (background)
Series: A Visitor's Guide to Highbury [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/908481
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	I Have an Onion

“I have this onion, and I’m going to use it.”

Emma Woodhouse stopped three steps into the kitchen. “I think that I heard that wrong. In fact, I’m so certain that I’m going to turn around and walk back into the living room. And then, when I come back, hopefully you will have regained your senses.”

George Knightley turned his gaze from the Spanish onion in his hand and to the redhead staring at him. “Emma, oh, hi, yeah, I have an onion.”

“I can see that,” she said as she edged slightly backwards. “It’s in your hand.”

“And I am going to use it. You heard me tell Erik that.”

Emma looked at the large fuming man who said, “It’s a Spanish onion, George. You don’t put Spanish onion in a quiche.”

“I do.”

Erik sighed. “You put either sweet onion or red onion in quiche.”

“Maybe that’s what you do at the Green Dragon, but that’s not what I do at my house.”

“George, I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, it’s my kitchen, Erik. And I’m going use the onions that I have.”

“I just don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You’ve already said that.”

Erik sighed and grimly crossed his arms. “Clearly, I feel very strongly about this.”

“Well, then you can go back to the living room, and when my quiche is done, you can eat it and admit that you were wrong.”

Emma snorted. “That sounds like something that I would say.”

“It does except that you’ve never made a quiche in your life,” George replied.

“I could do it,” she replied. “It’s a quiche. How hard can it be?”

George looked at Erik, and Erik looked back at him. Erik bit his lip, and George shook his head. “Oh Emma.”

“What? It’s just a quiche. You guys all make them.”

“Okay you eat them,” Erik said slowly. “But do you know what is in a quiche?”

“Eggs, vegetables, meat sometimes,” she answered. “There’s usually cheese.”

“Oh lord, Emma,” George sighed. “Just get out of the kitchen.”

“What did I do?”

Erik leveled his blue-eyed gaze on her and reached out an arm. “Em, come with me. We’ve both been banished from George’s quiche-making realm.”

“But what did I do?” she queried again.

Erik put a large hand on her shoulder. “Em, it’s better not to argue with George right now. Let’s go drink coffee.”

“Erik,” she sighed.

“Nope, let’s go. Elsa has coffee has out there. I’m pretty sure that Nora is mixing mimosas. Let’s go out there.”

She sighed again, this time more petulantly. “Fine.”

* * *

Once in the living room, Emma grumbled her way into a seat on the couch next to Elsa and accepted a cup of coffee. “I can’t even remember why I went in there.”

Elsa looked at her friend. “You wanted to ask George something.”

“But I don’t remember what. I got sucked into an argument about onions and quiche.”

“Onions and quiche?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Erik doesn’t like the kind of onion that George is putting in the quiche.”

“And you got sucked into it?”

“Naturally.”

Elsa shook her head. “Look, I love a good fight as much as the next year, but not even I would get sucked into a George and Erik fight.”

“Whereas I’m a complete sucker for a George and Erik fight?”

“I mean, you’re more just a sucker for any kind of a fight.”

Emma snorted. “I’m not a sucker for any fight.”

Nora laughed. “Emma, you don’t cook. You know approximately nothing about onions or quiche.”

“How hard can it be to make a quiche?”

“Oh lord, save me,” Erik moaned. “Em, as I recall, you can barely boil water. Quiche involves making pastry and the egg filling and making sure that everything bakes the proper amount.”

“Or I could buy a pie crust, mix some eggs together, throw some vegetables in the crust, put the eggs on top and bake it. I can do that.” After saying this, she gulped two solid mouthfuls of coffee. Arguing with your friends during Ed’s birthday brunch simply was not possible without caffeine.

“Can you make brownies from a box?” Nora queried.

“You know,” Emma sighed. “Someday I’m going to learn to cook better than any of you so that you can all stop making fun of me for this.”

“That’s fine. We would love it if you could cook something other than toasting a bagel.”

“Does that actually qualify as cooking?” Marianne queried.

“Now there’s a debate for you,” Erik replied.

“What’s a debate?” Ed queried.

“Does putting a bagel in the toaster count as cooking?”

The birthday boy snorted. “Neither toasting a bagel nor microwaving leftovers counts as cooking. Can Emma do both of those things? Yes, but they’re not cooking.”

“I can microwave popcorn,” she inserted feebly.

“I can cook it on the stovetop,” Elsa teased.

“Dad never let me use the stove.”

“You know,” Annie said slowly. “I’ve known that for years, but I’ve never understood it.”

“He said that he didn’t want Izzy or me to burn the house down.”

Will looked at her steadily. “Had your father known anyone that this had happened to?”

“No, but after Mom and Leo died, he started researching ways that Izzy and I could die and then forbidding us from doing those things.”

Will’s level blue gaze remained fixed on her. “How did you both turn out so normal?”

“Mama Knightley,” she replied. “We spent a lot of time at her house-this house-after school and whatnot. She taught Izzy to cook when Iz asked.”

“And you never asked?” Ed asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to learn to cook. I’ve never really felt the need. There’s always been someone to do it for me.”

“George,” Ed sighed.

Will nodded. “George.”

“But how did she live those four years when he was in Lambton for college?” Ed asked. George Knightly had gone to Lambton University in Illinois, a five-hour drive from Highbury the town in which Emma had lived her entire life.

“Elsa,” Annie said. “Mrs. Knightley, Izzy, me…”

“Our moms,” Nora added as she pointed to herself and Elsa.

“I got lucky,” Emma said. “I have some friends who have some really good moms.”

Annie lifted her coffee mug. “Here’s to the Great Mary Frances Bennet, mother to the masses.”

Emma grinned and raised her own mug. “She’s a dame and a rare woman.”

“My mother,” Elsa said with a smile as she raised her own mug. “She isn’t perfect, and she’s a force to be reckoned with.”

“Decidedly,” Will Darcy affirmed his fiancée.

“But never doubt that The Great Mary Frances knows how to love people well.”

“I used to wish that she was my mom,” Annie confessed meekly.

“Understandable,” Erik told her. “And I think that she does try to fill that gap for you now.”

“I like to think that my mom would have been like her,” Emma added. “They were friends.”

Catherine Woodhouse’s best friend since childhood had been Teresa Knightley, but the pair had also been close with Mary Frances Bennet. After Cate’s death, Teresa and Mary Frances had both, in their own ways, tried to look after Izzy and Emma Woodhouse. Living down the street from Henry Woodhouse and his daughters, day-to-day help had been easier for Teresa, but Mary Frances had more than chipped in to help.

Rather than answer, Elsa squeezed her friend’s hand and leaned her head against Emma’s.

Emma smiled. “You know, Else? As I remember, my mom was a good cook. She probably would have made me learn to cook.”

“At least boxed mac and cheese,” George said from the doorway.

“She probably would have made me learn to boil water. And she probably would have taught me the different kinds of onions. So…”

“So?” Elsa repeated.

“Maybe I should learn those things? I’m an adult. I won’t burn down the house.”

“Elsa and I wouldn’t let you,” George told her from the doorway.

“Just don’t tell my dad.”

George and Nora both laughed while Elsa snorted. “We would never do such a thing.”

“But we’re going to teach you about onions,” George said.

“And you’re going to know which ones belong in quiche,” Erik added. “And which ones absolutely do not.”

“Hey now,” George replied raising a hand. “My quiche is in the oven. You can’t knock it until you try it.”

“Oh don’t worry. Erik is going to try it,” Ed said. “You’re all going to eat my birthday brunch, and you’re going to stop arguing about onions.”

“He used the wrong-“

Ed raised a hand. “I like to think that I’m a pretty mild person, and I don’t think that I ask for much. But it’s my birthday, and I want to spend it with my friends.”

“Which you’re doing,” Erik said.

“True, but I also want to spend it with my friends when they’re not arguing,” Ed stated firmly. “So shut up about the damn onions.”

“He swore,” George said.

“I know,” came from Erik. “And he doesn’t swear.”

“I think that means that he’s serious.”

“So we need to behave?”

“Probably; I’m not sure that I want to know what comes next.”

“Oh both of you, just fuck off,” Ed sighed.

* * *

Less than an hour later, they were all gathered around George’s dining room table. Mugs were filled with coffee or tea. Glasses were filled with mimosas. Will Darcy rose to his feet and lifted his glass. “We’re here to celebrate someone who ought to be celebrated more than he is.”

“Oh lord,” Ed sighed.

“Shut up. It’s your birthday, Ed. It’s the one day of the year when I get to say all of the nice things that I don’t say the rest of the year.”

“This won’t take long.”

“I’ve known Ed his entire life.”

“You’re only three months older than me.”

Will turned to look at his nearly identical cousin. “I already told you to shut up so that I can give my toast.”

Ed’s blue eyes danced behind his dark-rimmed glasses. “I’m heckling you. It’s my job as your cousin and lifelong best friend.”

“I’m giving your birthday toast. Shut up.”

“Or what?”

Will glared at Ed. “I’ll shut you up. I know where George keeps the duct tape.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Just say what you want to say. The sooner that you’re done, the sooner we can find out how this quiche worked out with the wrong onions.”

“Thank you. Now, Ed is normally one of the kindest and best men that I know. It’s funny in some ways. I’ve known him my entire life. He’s practically been a brother to me.”

“You’ve been better than the real brother that I’m stuck with.”

“Anyway, we’ve been through a lot together-good things and hard things. I’m always impressed by the way that Ed faces life and handles whatever it hands him. The past year has been no exception to that. I think that a lesser man would have crumpled under some of the challenges that we’ve watched our friend face in the past year. But not our Ed, he’s handled each moment with a grace and calm that I have to admit that I’m a little jealous of. As someone who generally handles with challenges with irritation and grumbling, I wish I could handle troubles half as gracefully as you do. You’re a good coworker and an amazing friend. And he manages to maintain a healthy sense of humor, which usually delights me. Ed, you’re something of a hero to me. I’m incredibly lucky to have you in my life. I hope that this year is filled with good wonders. So raise your glasses to Ed. Happy Birthday, dude! I hope you have many more.”

After the toast and clinking of glasses, Ed grinned. “Thanks, Will. Now can we please try the quiche? I want to know if the onions ruined my birthday quiche.”

“You know, Erik, if this quiche doesn’t suck, you’re never going to live this down,” George said with a mischievous grin.

“Only until I make a better quiche for the next birthday brunch,” Erik replied with a smirk.

“Oh lord, this is going to be A Thing no matter what, isn’t it?” George sighed.

“You started it.”

Nora sighed. “I think that preschool story hour is calmer than brunch with you lot.”

“I’m hungry,” Will stated blandly. “Can someone please serve the quiche?”

“Elsa?” George queried as he offered her a knife and pie server.

“You’re not going to ask your girlfriend to serve at your own table?” Erik teased.

“Do you want me cutting a quiche?” Emma asked. “I thought that you thought that I couldn’t handle a quiche.”

“You know what?” Ed said. “Next time I have a birthday, I’m putting Elsa in charge of the whole thing. You people are not civilized.”

“No one has ever accused any of us of being civilized,” George retorted. “But some of us know how to cut an onion.”

Elsa stood up holding the pie server and knife in her hands. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’m going to cut and serve the quiches. You are all going to shut up until I’m done. No, new rule; you’re going to shut up until everyone has taken at least two bites of quiche. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” George replied.

Ed grinned wordlessly.

* * *

To Ed’s delight, his friends actually followed Elsa’s edict. The quiche was served in silence except for Elsa asking for people’s plates. Then, everyone even managed to sit in silence while they ate at least two bites of quiche.

Emma was first to break the silence. “I like that. The bacon is fantastic.”

“I know how Ed feels about bacon,” George said with a smile. “And I’m glad that you liked it.”

Erik sighed. “I hate to say this, but you were right. The onion worked.”

“I hate to say this,” George replied looking a bit like the cat who ate the canary. “But I told you so.”

Also instantly, a dark blue cloth napkin flew across the table and landed on George’s face. George shook his head as he tossed it back at Erik. “Behave yourself, Thor. Just remember. I had an onion, and I used it.”

“I’ll make sure that the record reflects that.”

Ed shook his head. “Seriously though, next year Elsa or Nora will have to be in charge of my birthday brunch.”

“Well,” Elsa began in a mischievous tone. “Nora does make a mean quiche.”

The birthday boy nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

* * *

The End...for now

**Author's Note:**

> During this time of quarantine, I've begun writing vignettes for my Highbury universe using the sillier sentences that I find while practicing my Spanish on Duolingo. This is the second of these stories, but it won't be the last.


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